Hallelujah
by Cithariza
Summary: Robin shows his true colors.


**A/N: Hi guys! So, I know I should be updating my story, but I'm trying to make it really really good. I'm currently working on the mythology and history and stuff, so it'll probably be a few days before I can update. But I am working on it! **

**In the meantime, I decided to write a quick little one shot. I did it in one sitting, and it didn't take me too terribly long to write, so if there are many grammatical errors, I apologize. I'm too tired to really edit it at the moment, but I wanted to post as fast as I could.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the song "Hallelujah" or any of the characters**

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><p>Hallelujah<p>

I've heard there was a secret chord  
>That David played, and it pleased the Lord<br>But you don't really care for music, do you?  
>It goes like this<br>The fourth, the fifth  
>The minor fall, the major lift<br>The baffled king composing Hallelujah

He was known by many names. The Boy Wonder, the sidekick, the teammate, the friend…the ward. But there was a name that had been ensconced by the passage of time, by the scars of injustice.

_Son._

It was late, only ten minutes until midnight. The biting winter wind sliced through Dick's clothes mercilessly as he stood in the all too familiar graveyard, his brilliant sky blue eyes darkened by the heaviness he felt in his soul. The fifteen year old could hear the sounds of song drifting out from the church that was situated behind him, the joyous voices of the people within a striking contrast to the despair that overwhelmed him.

As the minutes crept toward the midnight hour, so too the people's voices grew in volume. He tried to block the festive music, but it was futile. The clock struck midnight, its chimes echoing loudly in the graveyard the boy found himself in. He could hear the congregation happily exclaim to one another that the new day has arrived.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
>Hallelujah, Hallelujah<p>

_Merry Christmas!_

The numbness that had started in his chest quickly began to spread to the rest of his body. Another Christmas was here, and once again he was without them. He found himself sapped of any strength, and slowly sunk to his knees as the old revelation washed over him as if it were for the first time. The bouquet of orinthogalums he held slowly left his purchase, rolling near the two mounds that laid before him. Woodenly, the boy stared at the names on the graves, the waning moon casting a dim glow upon the epigraphs that had been carelessly engraved on the stones. He had visited many times before, and these words were no strangers to him anymore. But every time his eyes rested upon them, his heart would skip a beat. It had been about six years, and yet the disbelief still squirmed its way into his heart.

His parents were dead.

Maybe I've been here before  
>I know this room, I've walked this floor<br>I used to live alone before I knew you  
>I've seen your flag on the marble arch<br>love is not a victory march  
>It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah<p>

Dick felt something cold on his cheek, and vaguely realized that he was crying. Even after six years, the pain never completely went away. To the outside world, he was seen as the loyal sidekick to Batman, as the computer genius and youngster of the covert group established by the Justice League.

In those six years, he had become a good actor, going through the motions without even trying. No one would ever guess that fun-loving, carefree Robin was actually the alter ego of Dick Grayson, the angst-ridden orphan.

There was a time you'd let me know  
>What's real and going on below<br>But now you never show it to me do you?  
>Remember when I moved in you?<br>The holy dark was moving too  
>And every breath we drew was hallelujah<p>

The teen had to admit, he had a good teacher who showed him how to live past the sadness, even if it all was just a farce. But not even the greatest teacher could teach him how to play the role everyday, every _minute_ of his life. Eventually, even the strongest dam breaks. And for Dick, the floodgates surged opened as he knelt in the graveyard, the presence of his parents' graves bringing the crime-fighting child back to his tragic reality.

Time crawled by, but the boy did not stir. His weary soul barred him for any attempts of leaving the final resting place of his innocence.

Dick felt a gentle pressure being applied to his shoulder. He didn't turn around, knowing fully well who had seemingly materialized next him like the phatom many claimed him to be.

Most people didn't understand the boy's loyalty to his guardian. The no-nonsense, merciless mentor he had grown up with for the past six years intimidated even the most powerful member of the Justice League. The Batman everybody knew was intelligent, cruel, and ruthless. Most people would rather keep their distance from the Dark Knight, praying that they would never get on his bad side.

Maybe there's a God above  
>And all I ever learned from love<br>Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you  
>It's not a cry you can hear at night<br>It's not somebody who's seen the light  
>It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah<p>

But the man who joined the boy on the ground was not Batman, not at that moment. He was Bruce Wayne, a man who had lost everything, just like Dick had. Bruce's face was impassive, but Dick knew better. He knew that Bruce wasn't some robot without the ability to emote. Though he didn't show it in the most obvious way, Bruce Wayne was the most caring and warm person the boy knew. Dick figured he had to be to live the life he did. The older man was simply misunderstood by the world, much like he was. People take what they see as being a representation of the whole person, but in reality the outside is merely the tip of the iceberg.

The older man remained quiet, allowing the boy to mourn at his own pace. Dick appreciated his guardian's patience, and even though he didn't voice his gratitude, Bruce knew.

Dick didn't remember feeling tired, or closing his eyes that night. All he remembered was blinking, and when he his opened he found himself back at Wayne Manor, in his bed. The sun peeked out through his curtains, and the boy knew it was late in the morning.

He sat up in his bed, the memories of that night coming back to him instantly. Dick sighed as he got out of bed and walked down the stairs. A beautiful Christmas tree greeted him once he reached the bottom staircase, its boughs decorated with intricate ornaments of multiple colors. He spied several presents under the magnficient tree, the red and green wrapping paper expertly hiding the content inside.

The sound of dishes clacking in the next room alerted the boy to the fact that he was not the only one awake. He made his way to the kitchen, and was greeted by the ever jovial Alfred, who placed a plate full of his favorite breakfast foods at his usual spot at the table. As he sat down, Dick glanced over to the man occupying the other seat. Reading the morning news as usual, Bruce took a sip from his coffee before lowering the newspaper so he could look at Dick.

"Morning," he said, addressing his young charge like he always did.

Alfred began to hum "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" as he happily washed the dishes, as if he hadn't a care in the world. Dick looked between the two men and smiled at them. His family.

"Good morning," he responded, "Merry Christmas."

Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
>Hallelujah, Hallelujah<p>

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><p><strong>AN: How was it? Terrible? Should I write more stuff like this? Please let me know! Feedback inspires me to write more! I hope you liked it! **


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